Life
by Abi2
Summary: .'They had killed their only chance of redemption. And now that Voldemort was dead, they may be safe from him, but never from the atrocity that they had commited.'
1. Harry

I should never be given coffee, then be given depressing things to read and watch before bedtime. I woke up in the middle of the night and suddenly wrote this piece of crap. Here you go...

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Harry sat there, slumped against the door, eyes shut, breath coming in ragged gasps.

_How could they!_

How could they say those things to him? Say such... such lies?

_"You stupid git! You think that we wouldn't notice, wouldn't put the pieces of the puzzle together? You had to have helped You-Know-Who, how else could all of this happen? How could Cedric have died so easily? How else could you have 'miraculously' escaped with only some scratches?"_

Ron could be such a bloody prat sometimes, not thinking before he spoke. Not thinking about the harmful words spewing out of his mouth.

But worse, far worse, was that Hermione was backing him up. Albiet reluctantly, she said it herself, "_It doesn't make logical sense Harry. You have to have had some help... And Sirius..."_

He wasn't sure what hurt worse, the fact that she brought it up, or the fact that she blamed him for Sirius' death too. Blamed him for almost getting her killed.

And how could he argue?

_I did get them both killed. I didn't respond fast enough to save Cedric. I wasn't strong enough to keep Wormtail away. I couldn't do much more than run away, like the coward I am. Sirius... I just waltzed right into that one, eh? No need to tell me twice about how badly I fucked that one up. _

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, pushing against them until he saw colors and they started to ache. A sob almost escaped his throat, the tears behind his hands spilling over.

How did they expect him to go on like this?

To save their arses while convientiently friendless, probably getting himself killed in the process.

No one would care.

They all thought him crazy, all thought he was a dark wizard in training. He was even begining to think that Dumbledore was starting to turn against him after Sirius' death. It seemed that nothing was going to be alright.

_This is what I get for living. I make it through ten years of hell, ten years of abuse. Never being told how I was special, never being told I was loved. Never having a friend, never having anyone but myself. That's all there ever has been I guess... Just me. _

_Then I met these people, and for a while, it was good. Then things started to fall apart. After Cedric... I guess I took them for granted, pushed them away. I guess in my mind it was a way to try to protect them. But in reality, it just started to really push them away. _

_People whispering in the halls... Whispering wherever I go._

_No one supports me, hell, even Neville and Ginny are starting to turn against me. _

_I would have excpected that Ginny would have understood. The feeling of being touched by a truely mad, evil..._

"What is evil? Evil is a point of view... Voldemort thinks that he's doing something to better the world. I doubt he thinks himself entirely 'evil'. Just like he probably thinks that I am evil. That I, the one who opposes him, just like he opposes me... That I am evil."

He pulled his hands from his eyes, revelling in the afterimage effect he had created.

"And maybe, maybe I am."

He pulled himself up, brushing off his robes, thoughts whirling through his head like owls swooping for prey.

"And if they say I am evil, that I am bad, does that make it so? Or am I just opposing their point of view? "

He wandered over to his bed, sitting on the edge. He held out his hands, staring at them.

"'If you cut me, do I not bleed?' Don't we bleed the same? Why can't they understand that I am just like them? Well, maybe not _just_, I don't think that they have a connection with a madman through a fucking silly scar on their foreheads. I sincerely doubt that they understand what it is that they're doing. Do they know how cruel... How despicable...? Do they even care? Did they ever care?"

He trailed off, sighing. Tomorrow was another day, and tonight he lacked the appetite to go eat with those cruel children.

_Petty._

_That's what they are, petty fools. Jealous and at the same time scared. They see something different, and they want it to conform to their nice, neat little standards._

He laid out on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He could feel the saddness, that ball of ache sitting in his chest. But he could push past it for now.

He would survive.

No matter what they said, he could get past it.

He just had to keep his head up, and not get angry.

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It was a week later, and all he could feel was that ache in his chest. That buning behing his eyes, his cheeks. He had cresent moons in his palms from clenching his fists so hard.

But he had done it. One week down. Four months to go until the end of the school year.

He could do it.

He didn't need to feel, didn't need to breathe. The ache in his chest stole his every heartbeat, his every breath, every feeling.

And he was so tired... So very tired.

Apparently the madman was still sane enough to tourture him, sending him terrible dreams, filled with tortures, deaths, disturbing images that haunted him long after he awoke.

And nothing he did seemed to make it stop. Nothing he did could keep Voldemort out of his head. He tried the Occlumency, he practiced every chance he got. He tried to ask Snape, of all things, to tutor him. He was scorned, sneered at and told that he was hopeless, and that he should just give it up now.

If only Snape had to see these things... Not that he didn't ever see them, he just didn't have to watch them all night, every night.

Harry didn't even scream anymore. He couldn't.

He had blocked himself off, stopped trying to tell them. Stopped trying to tell himself that these were horrible crimes. He tried to think of other things, tried to simply accept that he could not help the people in his dreams.

They were already dead.

Lucky sodding bastards.

He had stopped even speaking to people in the halls, at meals. He didn't speak much in class, but it wasn't a problem. No one talked to him anyways.

He knew that soon, whether he cracked under the pressure or not, someone was going to notice his odd behavior.

He was smiling, even when there was nothing to smile about.

He would sometimes freeze in the middle of the hallway, or a class.

He would get visions, or would remember something horrible that happened to this person's relative, or that person's family.

Hannah Abbot's mother, raped in front of him (so to speak).

Pansy Parkinson's parents Crucio'd for hours, she herself being beaten for "impudence".

He always tried to be nicer to her after that... If only out of a respect for her pain threshold...

He would be ignored in some classes, and the center of ridicule in others.

Potions was the worst... Snape and the Slytherins hating him quite vocally. With help from his fellow Gryffindors of couse. It just wouldn't be a good day until he was reviled by everyone, enimies or former friends.

At this point, he couldn't tell the difference.

He laughed, a foriegn sound. The third years in the Gryffindor common room stared in horror just before breaking out into frantic whispers.

He laughed because he was starting to see it, starting to see why someone could want to kill an entire race of people.

Why anyone would kill anyone.

Why someone could, would kill themselves.

And it was funny only because he was turning into what they thought he was. He was a creature of their own making. They thought he was crazy, and he was.

They thought he was evil, and he was.

They thought he should have died instead of the others that had been killed. People he had never even met. They blamed the deaths on Harry.

And so he would. He would die just like they thought he should.

The only thing to think about was how...

He stopped, cocking his head thoughtfully.

He would have to find Voldemort, would have to find hs weakness... Or maybe he should research this proophecy a bit more...

After all, nothing in life is free, nothing so simple as death should be free either.

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Harry sat at the desk in the library quietly pouring over the parchments in front of him. He had written out the prophecy, and was trying to decipher it, trying to make sense of what it said.

"And neither shall live while the other survives..,"

Neither shall live while the other survives... So niether he nor Voledmort could live while the other was alive... No... He had no clue really...

He sighed and crumpled up the parchment. Maybe he should just leave a note saying "Well, you treated me like shit, so have a nice time dealing with the lunatic by yourselves." Move to the Bahamas, or to Mexico... Somewhere warm.

He thew the wadded up parchment into his bag, standing up and stretching. His stomache took this time to growl loudly, attesting to his lack of meals in the past 48 hours.

_Well, I have to suck it up sometime and just eat with them. After all, how bad can it be? I know, dangerous question..._

He started the long walk form the library to the Great Hall.

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There was a second of silence as he entered the Great Hall, and then the dull roar of whispered conversations and of those not-so-whispered accusations.

"Look at Potter, finnaly feels like he can stoop to our level and eat with us."

Malfoy... Harry wished he could tell the little bastard about the plan that Voldemort had to frame Lucious for another man's crime... Not the favored family anymore, eh?

Harry just looked at Malfoy, eyes blank, a vague smile present on his face. A smile that said "I'm not as sad as you think I should be".

"Look at Potter, just walking around like he owns the place."

"Malfoy, shut it."

Three words, three small words, and the entire school seemed to side with Draco Malfoy.

"Leave Potter, no one wants to move so that your majesty can sit upon his throne. "

"No one wants you here."

Harry just stopped dead in the center of the Hall. His head down so his bangs would hide his eyes.

Hide the anger, the humiliation, the hurt.

The tears.

"...Okay."

Whispers...

"Okay."

More whispers... What was he doing?

"Allright. No one wants me here? No one wants the beloved saviour of your arses to sit at the dinner table with them? Fine. Find someone else. I quit. I forfeit my title. I hereby don't GIVE A FUCKING DAMN. If you want someone to be your scapegoat, find someone else. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of the lies. Sick of the whispers. Sick of being hated. I'm sick to death of watching people die, watching people being tortured. Not that anyone believes that I see this stuff. No, you all believe that I somehow dissapperate into Voldemort's lair and dissembowl people for shits and giggles. Which, just to tell you, I don't."

He looked all around the Hall, looked at the faces watching him in disturbing fascination.

He pulled something from inside of his robes sending several people to grab their wands. He held out a knife, wickedly sharp looking.

"See this? It's a knife. It would hurt you. It could even kill you. And guess what? I'm human too. It can hurt me, even kill me too."

He moved quickly, pulling the knife deeply and quickly against his forearm.

Ruby blood gushed from the wound, even as several people gasped and screamed. He grinned.

Teachers were running down the aisle, trying to get to him.

He shouted, "SEE! SEE HOW I BLEED? JUST LIKE ANY ONE OF YOU!"

He pulled the knife against the other arm, revelling in the slight euphoria of bloodloss.

Lost in the sounds of screaming in his ears, lost within himself.

He could feel Voldemort in his head, trying to figure out Harry's mind. Trying to understand why, what?

Harry sat down heavily on the floor, staring at the enchanted ceiling. It was dusk, the stars just begining to peek through.

_Voldemort, wherever you are in here, know this... You're going to die too... I can feel it. Can you? You can't live without me... Just like I wouldn't be able to live without you... _

It was silent in his little world, his little bubble of existance.

"Ring around the rosies... Pocket full of posies... Ashes, Ashes..."

A deep, stuggling breath. His eyes seeming stuck to the image of the stars on the enchanted ceiling. He tore them away, laughing as he finished the old nursery rhyme.

"We all fall down..."

He could see the teachers in front of him, banging at the invisible barrier that he had unconciously erected.

This was his choice damnit, and for once he was going to go through with something HE wanted to do.

"'M sorry Ron, 'Mione. Sorry Everyone... I didn't mean to ruin your dinner... Keep eating... I'll just be leaving now."

He stood up, wobbling form side to side, barely able to stand.

He sighed, feeling his eyes close without his permission.

"He's dead you know... Voldemort's dead... 'Neither can live while the other survives...'"

He smiled as he heard their gasps...

"Damnit... I saved you didn't I? I didn't mean to. I meant for you to have to deal with the bastard alone... But fuck. Whatever."

The bubble of silence gave way to a deep, desperate roar, and a scream, heard only in his head as HE died. Several of the Slytherin group, all of which he knew were Death Eaters, and even Snape all fell to the floor, holding tightly to their arms, the Dark Mark burning brightly one last time. Like a star, flaring in it's final moments, before winking out of existance forever.

Snape's face was the only one Harry could see. When had he fallen down? He couldn't hear more than faint screams. He could only see the bright red of his blood seeeping out across the floor of the Great Hall. And Snape's face, on his level as the burning Dark Mark incapacitated him.

And Snape finally understood.

Understood that while he had shunned the boy, had ridiculed and hated him for things that he had and had not done... He had done this. He had killed this boy. Not only him, but every person in their world.

They had killed their only chance of redemption. And now that Voldemort was dead, they may be safe from him, but never from the atrocity that they had commited. They had foolishly sent this boy, this young, untrained boy, to fight their battles. Every battle that they had, every death that had happened at the hands of the Dark Lord...

Snape himself had witnessed (and committed) many murders at the hands of Voldemort. But this boy had come to him for help, because (as he could see now when it was too late) he had witnessed EVERY crme commited by the madman.

Every death, every torture, every spell.

He cried. Silent tears coursed down his face as he looked into those eyes, their vibrant emeraled dulled to a soft jade.

Dead.

How could they?

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()

R+R please?


	2. Snape

I would like to thank Vana E for giving me the inspiration to continue this story. It was a one-shot, but then she gave me the idea to continue it. So this will now be a multi-chapter work. Each chapter will be from/revolve around one character's view. It may start here, at the end of the first chapter, or it may be weeks, months, or years in the future.

I hope you enjoy this, and thanks again to my reviewers, without you I'd never have known this was in me.

Thanks.

--This is just before the end of the first chap--

Harry stopped in the middle of the Hall, hands clenched at his sides, hair hiding his face. Snape had a good view of all of this, calm face appraising the situation, hands clenching beneath the worn wood of the table. His wand in his sleeve at the ready should Potter prove dangerous. He watched as the boy stood, waited a breath as he could feel the magic in the air stir.

He could see Potter tremble with barely restrained -- rage? -- pain?

In a heartbeat this could go very wrong, very bad.

Potter could rise to the bait and go mental, tearing them all apart in his rage.

He may simply let this slide, just as he had over the last week or so.

Oh, Snape had noticed, had seen him withdraw. But he blamed it on Dumbledore. Blamed it on Potter's own idiocy. His guilt complex.

When Potter had come to him for retraining in Occlumency he had sneered, had turned him away.

"Okay"

He barely heard the soft reply, but he heard the determination in it. He stood, trying to look calm as he tried to reach the boy before all hell broke loose.

It was the same voice, it had the same sound as when Snape himself had broken. Had been forced to the breaking point; had done terrible things. And everytime, every single time he had felt that there was no other way.

Suicide missions... Times when you do things that are, before that point, completely idiotic. They still are, but at the time...

He could feel the blood drain from his already pale face as the boy pulled the knife, slit his wrists.

-pulse-

His arm throbbed, bringing him to his knees.

-pulse-

He did this... He had killed this boy.

Just like his parents... And just like the Dark Lord had killed all the youth in Snape himself.

He had hated this boy for his father's faults. Was he too hasty?

Snape looked at the dull jade of Harry's dead eyes. When did he become Harry? Oh yes, when he had given his life to save someone -- everyone who hated him.

He heard the distant screams roar back to life, watched the blood stop flowing, congealing and darkening.

Uncurling from his prone position, he -looked- all around him. Really looked at the people that surrounded him in the Great Hall.

He saw students in shock, scared and screaming. Not for Harry, but for their own horrified selves. Most of them had never seen anyone die, had never seen the way a body lies so cold and alone. Never seent he shapes the blood makes in your mind as you try to put it past you, try to tamp down the screams inside yourself... You had to get past it to get through it... That was the way he had gotten through his life. Putting the horrible things of the world behind him, so that he could walk through this world with his head held high and his sanity (mostly) intact.

Minerva was kneeling on the floor, dark robes soaking in the dark blood as she cradled the dead boy's head, whispering words to him, trying to coax his soul back to his body. Her eyes seemed to looke through him, past Harry to another she had lost in her lofe, going back to another experience, another death, another time.

Albus stood near the head table, having stayed back. A great wizard though he was, he was still old, and could not always be there as quickly as the younger wizards. His eyes seemed lost. For the first time Severus saw just how -old- he was. He tended to forget how long Albus had been alive when the man continued to keep himself cheerful and moving. Albus had been old and grey when Severus himself was just a first year at Hogwarts all those years ago...

The other teachers were trying to console the children, while he saw Hagrid moving stiffly to the fireplace. Green flames told of his departure, Severus could only assume it was to tell everyone about Harry's death, and the subsequent death of Voldemort.

Severus stared at his bare arm, seeing the faint lines of the Dark Mark burning, fading. He was truely free...

He stood up, wincing and limping over to his charges. He saw that many of the initiated had passed out from the pain of the Dark Mark's removal.

Draco Malfoy was sitting against the table on the floor, staring at the body of his classmate. The person he had spent six years antagonizing, baiting and fighting. How would he take it? Take the loss...?

"Draco... Draco how are you?"

The boy looked at him with blank eyes, something deep inside trembling and dangerously close to breaking.

"He...he..."

"Yes Draco. He's dead."

Draco looked from Snape back to Harry, his eyes fragile, yet so strong.

"Bloody hell... I was the one who kept telling him to go off and die... And he chooses -now- to bloody do it? Wanker."

The bark of laughter was an unexpected sound in the hall, where the sounds of crying and sobs were all that could be heard. The screams had died down, those who had been screaming had turned to frightened whimpers, startled gurgles. The laughter of the two Slytherins was not wholly unexpected, yet still was not right.

"Severus! How could you!" admonished McGonagal. Albus just smiled wanly, nodding to the two laughing.

"Minerva, we all grieve diferently. They have a great deal to be relieved about, as well as their own grief over Harry."

Dumbledore stood tall, his hat a bit askew, and his face tight with his grief and his guilt.

"Students. We cannot let this tragedy blind us to our new freedom. With his death, Harry has freed us from a monster, one that has plagued us for so long. Many of you have lost family, have lost friends and loved ones. And now through one final act, even though we have lost a great boy, one who was a brother to some and a friend to all, he has brought about the happiest day of our time. Voldemort id now dead, and with him goes the pain and fear of so many years. Yet, we cannot simply lie back and expect everything to be well once more. Such is the manner of all great sacrifices, it will be misunderstood by some, and twisted darkly by others. All is not finished! We must gather ourselves and stand strong against any opposition. Harry was a good boy, and a brave young man. He sacrificed his all, his schooling, his friends and family... His very life for us. We must repay our debt to him by making his sacrifice worthwhile."

Severus glanced at the Gryffindor table, silent with shock, faces stained red with sobs and tears. Hufflepuffs with heads hung low, weeping into open palms, remembering for certain the way they treated Harry after the death of Cedric. Ravenclaws silently weeping for a lost student, a young man taken in the prime of his life. Slytherin table was quiet, with small sniffles and tears of pain. They had lost almost everything today. Many of them probably lost their families, their riches and standings.

Many would not find it in their hearts to remember a fallen hero, only to remember a dark day, filled with hate from now on.

Hermione Granger sat stiffly at Gryffindor table, eyes open and staring blankly at Harry's corpse. She did not cry, did not weep. She simply stared at him, total disbelief apparent on her face.

Next to her, Ron Weasly sat with red cheeks, puffy with crying. His hands were rubbing circles on Hermione's back as he wept silently.

The youngest Weasly, Ginny, sat with no tears, no red face. She simply had a vague smile, one of sisterly understanding. She would not weep for such an act. She remembered well what Harry had done for her, what it was like to be tethered to a Madman. She knew his release was nothing more than just that. He had never intended to save anyone. They had made sure of that. He was simply under too much stress, in too much pain. She smiled and turned to her younger classmates, helping them to calm down. Snape himself felt the same way, having served The Dark Lord for so long, he knew that the weight of his freedom was lightening his heart, even as the death of a student threatened to pull it back down.

"We will go out, and we will remember Him. We will tell the entire Wizarding World about what he did. He gave his life so that we could live in freedom and peace."

Dumbledore kept going on about how they needed to remain standing, to not let this tragedy overwhelm them.

_Load of bollocks._ Thought Snape. _Propoganda to keep them quiet. He wants no bad press for his Golden Boy, even - especially - in death. What about my children? What about those here who have lost their entire lives in the span of seconds? What will he do for them?_

Snape reclined next to Draco, watching the Headmaster try to bolster spirits, garner confidence.

"Load of tripe." Draco's mouth hardly moved, but his hissing whisper was enough to make Snape's mouth twitch into a small parody of a smile.

"What will you do?"

A sigh.

"I have no clue. Father will be most unhappy about all this... If..." Draco couldn't finish. A tight sound stopping up his throat.

"They are fine." whispered Snape, trying to comfort him to the best of his abilites in the given situation.

A hiss, a nod.

---later that night---

The Slytherin dorms were sombre as many waited for news from families and friends. A soft cry each time an owl was spotted, and a soft murmmur as notes were read. None would cry aloud, but there were many crying silently in their beds. Severus Snape had sat by the fire, consoling his charges, trying to keep them from slipping under the pressure of sudden news, and overwhelming pain.

So far he had used his entire stock of Dreamless sleep potion, as well as several minor Calming Draughts.

His arms were in constant motion, a soothing pat here, a microscopic hug there. Unlike other houses, Slytherins never resorted to open displays of affection or condolence. There were exceptions, of course, the younger years who had lost siblings or parents were held by others. Comfort was brought to all, no matter how insignificant it may seem.

A trembling lip, a watery eye, those were the signs of weakness. _And we so thoroughly stamp that out in here, now don't we? Maybe now they can relax a bit more, not have to be on their guard all the time. Ease up, be the children we never got to be. Damn him. Damn Voldemort for taking my life from me, for taking the lives of these children from them._

_Damn him for taking the lives of everyone, shaping them to fit his needs, not letting us live, grow. Damn Dumbledore too, he's just as manipulative, just less violent. Is this what you wanted old man? To make him die so horribly? To prove to us... to me, that we will never redeem ourselves for this atrocity. We killed an innocent boy, one who really never -was- a boy._

"Damn him...Damn him."

"What did you say Professor?"

He looked down at the second-year sitting next to him on the couch by the fire. Sow the glimmer of hope, the shine of pain. Saw the innocence that now had the chance to bloom, to show and be nurtured. This one wasn't corrupted yet. This was the chance they all needed. For the youngest ones to grow up stong and happy.

Then they would be even.

"Nothing Sasha. Nothing."

_Thank you Potter._

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"So, so you think you can tell, Heaven from Hell; Blue skies from pain..."

So... Yeah. I think I'll do Hermione or Ron. Possibly McGonagall. Need to balance it... Tell me what you think?


	3. Hermione

Thanks godessa39 for the review.

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_I can't believe he -- I just can't believe. Why would Harry do that? Why!_

Hermione stared unseeing into the roaring fire in the Gryffindor common room. There were the sounds of sobs, and the sounds of comfort from the older years to the first and second years. Hermione as one of those who cradled a sobbing first year, Jeremy, and tried to make herself seem strong.

She just couldn't cry. She had sat there in the Great Hall, staring at his body, watching the blood soak into McGonagal's robes as she tried to coax Harry back into life.

_But it was too late. We had ignored him, had left him alone. We shunned him because we were shallow and scared. I didn't want to die. I almost did so many times... But we should have..._

A small hiccup of a sob. Jeremy looked up at her, face bright red in the firelight.

"Miss Hermione... It'll be okay... He's happier now. Right?"

She just sobbed and nodded.

_I hope he is Jeremy. I really hope he is._

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Later, after the younger kids had finally passed out, they had tucked them into their beds and had sat around the fire. The fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh years all sat in a group, tears silently falling.

"When did we get this way? What happened to make everything go so wrong?" Whispered Hermione. She looked around at the sad faces, tried to envision their thoughts. Why? What?

"When we got scared... He wasn't the same after Sir- I mean after the Ministry. He pushed us away, and we got angry, got scared of what he might be plotting."

Hermione looked at Ron, "But we never asked. We never tried to figure out _why_ he was so sad. Why he was trying to keep us out."

A small cough came from the armchair.

"He was trying to keep us safe." Everyone looked at Ginny, her face blushing to match her hair.

"I guess that I know that because I did the same thing my first year... When... You know... But he just wanted to make sure that either way, neither we nor he would end up hurting. It never works in the end, but he tried."

Everyone listened to this, listened to the small girl who sounded so mature...

Hermione nodded.

_It makes so much sense... Why didn't we see that sooner? That he was just trying to keep us safe, unlike Sirius. He got too close to Sirius, and when Harry tried to keep him safe, he felt that he killed Sirius instead. And then we said such horrible things to him..._

"We were so horrible to him too. I'm amazed he held out for so long. He really seemed so... lost those last few days. I don't understand how he lasted so long... I know I would have cracked a whole lot sooner than he did..." She stopped, staring at the fire once again, wishing she hadn't shared that last bit.

"I don't think I would have either 'Mione." Ron came to her rescue. He wrapped his long arms around her as she buried her head into his shirt. Her muffled sobs drew looks of pity, but many of the others simply stared, no real emotion to it. They knew what had gone on, but had no major role in the whole fiasco.

So they thought.

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Minerva McGonagal slipped through the Portrait hole, seeing her children all gathered inside.

"I know that many of you will be returning next year, but for those who will not be, you will be missed. I hope that when you go out into this new world you can help rebuild, and that you will find happiness. Let's go to the Ceremony. Follow me now."

She turned and led the Gryffindors to the grounds.

Hermione trailed at the end, fingering her graduation robes, smoothing the flawless black fabric. Red stripes on her sleeves displayed her Gryffindor status, and her new wide-brimmed witches hat sat heavy on her head.

_How would Harry have looked in his own graduation robes? He would be standing there, next to Ron, fussing over the Quidditch bars, trying to get his hat to lie straight on his messy hair._

She hastily swiped away the start of tears. She wouldn't shed tears today, not unless they were shed in happiness. She hurried to catch up with the rest of the Gryffindors, her beaming smile lightening her mood.

They got out to the Graduation platform, the graduates sitting in the front chairs, the younger years sitting in the back. Headmaster Dumbledore stood to give his address.

"It brings me such happiness to see so many eager young faces look at me today. To know that you will go out and live your lives, and that you will all make such a mark on your world. I wish you happiness and luck." He smiled, waving a hand in the air. All of the graduate's robes flashed to a brilliant white.

"You head out today, chock full of all the knowledge we could stuff into your heads. Now take it and use it!" He laughed.

They all stood, tossed their hats into the air, and laughed and hugged and cried

Later, as they were about to board the train, Hermione looked back one last time, stared at what had been her home for seven years. The place that held so many memories, both good and bad. She closed her eyes and smelled the wind. She could hear the children behind her clamor and shriek. But they faded into the background as she swore she heard Harry's laughter once again, could feel the warmth of the Common room fire. She could hear late-night talks of Quidditch, see so many study sessions.

She opened her eyes, tears sparkling at the edges.

"Goodbye Harry."

She boarded the train, not looking back.

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Hermione wiped the flour from her hands as she walked to the door, stepping over the box of crayons and the magical coloring book as she made it to the front door.

"Hello?" There was no one at the door, setting off several alarms in her head. She shut the door, and _ran_ to her son's room. She stuck her head in, saw him calmly napping. She breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped further in to sit by him. He was her little boy, her pride and joy. Hermione had never thought about having children before, but she had found herself in love, married, and pregnant before she could ever remember thinking about it.

She stroked James' strawberry hair before tucking his blanket around him tighter. She kissed his forehead before checking the room and closing the door most of the way.

She decided to call Ron at the Ministry to see if he was alright, just to be sure.

Throwing a bit of powder into the kitchen fire, she put her head into the flames and called out "Ron Weasly's Office!"

She looked around, hoping to glimpse her husband at his desk, but he seemed to be out. She spoke a simple charm to copy a note on his desk telling him to message home as soon as he got the note.

She dusted herself off before looking around. The nagging feeling that something was _wrong_ persisted. There was a noise by James' room, and she hurried to investigate.

_Oh Merlin let everything be alright. Let this just be my imagination. Let me be imagining things... Please..._

She caught a glimpse of a shadow entering her son's room, and she shouted and drew her wand from her pocket. She would die before anyone touched her son!

"Get out whoever-!" She stopped cold. There was no one here, but she _knew_ that something was here. She felt a presence, and she couldn't help but feel tears roll down her cheeks.

"Oh please... I'm imagining things... Please let me be imagining things..." She whispered as she clutched her son to her breast. James' muffled cries startled her, and she tried to soothe him.

She heard the fireplace roar as someone Floo'd in, and almost cried with relief when she heard the frantic voice of her husband.

"Hermione! Hermione, are you alright!" He ran to his son's room and saw his wife soothing James as tears rolled down her face.

"What's wrong? Are you alright? There have been some attacks to the Ministry, and I saw your note, and I was so worried!"

She looked at him with her tear filled eyes.

"He's done it again..." Hermione whispered, cradling the now calm James to her.

"Who's done what Dear?"

"Harry's gone and saved us again..."

Ron looked at her warily, hoping he was just imagining the words that were coming from Hermione's mouth.

"What's going on Mione? What's wrong?" He strode over and sat on the bed, pulling her to him, folding Hermione and James into his embrace.

"Someone came to the door, only there was no one there. I got a bad feeling and I checked on James, and then when I left, I tried checking on you. I had left you a note because I was worried about you, that bad feeling kept on, so I had to check... But then I swore I saw someone come in here -" Ron tensed, looking around. "But there was no one, and I felt something... And I just know that Harry was trying to warn me of something..."

Ron held her close, smoothing her hair for a few minutes, listening to the explanation for the note, and listened as she started to calm down, her babbling turning into murmurs.

"It's alright Mione. Nothing's wrong. Just a bit of trouble at the Ministry, nothing we can't handle."

They both tensed as they heard the fire roar and the thuds of three people coming through the fireplace.

"Ron!"

"Ronald!"

"Ron!"

The two of them looked on in wonder as Tonks, Arthur and Ginny all rushed into the room.

"Oh Merlin, when we'd heard -"

"Are you alright- "

"Ron!"

Ron held up a hand, and looked at Hermione.

"What's happened?"

Three stares were leveled at Ron, and Ginny was the first to talk.

"There were several explosions outside of the Ministry, you know. And then we heard some _inside_ the building... One of the offices that got the brunt of it was the Auror's offices. Tonks was one of the ones outside when it happened. We thought -- "

She choked, tears falling thick.

"We didn't find you immediately, and then we saw the note... Oh Merlin Ron! I was so _scared_ we'd lost you!"

Hermione turned into Ron's embrace, hot tears soaking his work shirt.

"I told you! Oh Ron I knew it!"

Ron was pale, his freckles standing out in stark relief. He turned his head into Hermione's hair, whispering platitudes. He was visibly shaken.

"Who -- Who did it? Do we know?" He shook silently, arms tightening a bit further.

"No," said Tonks, staring at Hermione. "What's she on about?"

Ron just looked up to the ceiling, smiling.

"Thanks Mate. Thank you so much..."

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Random I know. But... It's my story so... Nyah. Anyways, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. I love you guys! Now, tell me what you think?


	4. Draco

Oddest thing... My hits nearly doubled overnight when I posted "Hermione"! I was like "wow". But, and I hate to be like this, I'm not going to post anymore after this chapter until I get ten reviews. I have five right now, so I think that five more isn't so bad to ask for. I try not to ask, but I need to know that you are actually reading it, not just stopping by and going "this is dumb".

Thanks, and I hope you enjoy.

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It was dark, and that was the way he wanted it. Father had never woken up, so why should he? He knew it was childish of him, but still... To lose your family, your role model, your entire way of thinking...

It was too much for him.

He was strong though, he was stronger than Lucius. He would not break. Draco Malfoy was not so easily done in.

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Diagon Alley was filled with joy, bright sunshine streamed through the few clouds, and it lit up the children's faces as they laughed and played.

It was disgusting.

The head of the Malfoy family strode down Diagon Alley, dark demeanor chilling everything it touched. His face was all calm, crips lines and smooth skin. But there was a darkness there that was undeniable. The small smile he had as he nodded to certain people never reached his eyes; always leaving the motion hollow.

Just like he felt.

He stopped in front of Gringotts, breathing deep. He quickly downed a patience potion, without anyone noticing, of course. He was Draco Malfoy, he was suave, debonaire, and above all, he NEVER lost his temper. He would not be his father. He would not be killed for his ferverent nature, his insanity.

He strode into the bank, waiting for a Goblin to come to him, as always.

When the goblin came to escort him to a private office, he almost sneered at the little creature. He had no real idea why they had called him here today, it was something about a will.

Yet, his father's estate and will had been handled already, as had his mother's. What could be left?

"This way please." was all the little creature said as they moved deeper into the maze of offices. They stopped in front of a very large office, one in which a rather large Goblin awaited.

"Mister Malfoy. Be saeted please."

Draco swept calmly into the office, sitting down on the offered chair, steepling his hands, waiting for the news.

"We have a bit of a situation. There are a few... catches in some wills in your... family. The first of which is to tell you that as the last living direct relative to the Blacks, you are the recipient of Half of the Potter's estates."

Draco blinked, startled.

"What?"

"Half of the Potter family estates and fortune go to you."

"WHY?"

"This is a bit of a complicated matter, sir. If you please, I will tell you.

"When Mister Sirius Black, the last remaining Black in the line, died, all of the Black fortune and Estates went to one Harry James Potter. Now, after the ah, incedent involving Mister Potter, we had to sift through an old will. It was made before the death of his Godfather, Sirius Black, and as such, delivered half of his assests and the estates to Mister Black."

Draco nodded, head buzzing.

"Now, as Mister Potter stated in his will, he wished half of the Potter finances, a total of 12 million Galleons, to go to the Weasly family. And in the event of the death of the Weaslys, the rest to go to Albus Dumbledore. Seeing as the Weasly's are still with us, they have the inherited 12 million Galleons. They also recieved two of the five estates of Black and Potter. The ancestral home of the Blacks, a Number 12 Grimmauld Place, was left in the care of Albus Dumbledore, and in the event of his death, left to... Severus Snape."

Draco's eyes widened.

"Why the hel-" He quickly closed his mouth.

"Now, the remaining direct relations to the Blacks were the Lestranges, and the Malfoys. The Snapes were a third relation, twice removed, and so not in the direct path of inheritance. But as stated, the house in question went to Albus Dumbledore. Now, The direct inheritors of the Potter Estates and Finances were the Dursleys, the ahem, Muggle relations. They refused it, and so it was dead ended. The catch of the will was that it was to go to Black, who was already dead and had left HIS to Potter. As the Lestranges are dead, that left the Malfoys to inherit. Do you follow?"

Draco nodded slowly.

"So... I am the inheritor of my _childhood enemy's_ estates? And his convict godfather. Joy. What's the inheritance?"

"The Black fortune of 28 million Galleons, and half of the Potter's totaling 12 million. For a sum total of 40 million Galleons as well as one Black estate, off in France, and the Potter's ancestral Godric's Hollow."

Draco's eyes widened. Wasn't that where..?

Draco nodded, running sums in his head. 40 million! That was only half of the Malfoy fortune, but it was quite a hefty sum. And that he got Weasly leftovers rankled, but it was still from Potter.

"I never thought that this could happen. I was never related to the Potters... This is just too odd."

He signed the papers, and was sent to visit the Potter vault. WHen the door opened, he glimpsed the small fortune inside, brain still going in circles from the shock. This had to be a dream... not necessarily a bad one either. He won against Potter, getting the riches.

_But I won against a dead boy, not much opposition there. Although he, and the rest of the Potters, are sure to be rolling in their graves._

He ordered the money to be transfered to his family vault, and left Gringotts. He wanted to visit his new estates and see if they were worth keeping.

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The Black mansion in France turned out to be a good investment, but Godric's Hollow was a developer's dream. He could sell this...

A chill ran up Draco's spine as he turned to see who was coming up. He knew he told Della to wait at the carriage with the boys...

But no one was there. He could feel the magic surrounding this place though, he could feel the power in the stones of the old house.

-flash-

He saw a dark night, a woman crying, a man's scream.

-flash-

Draco panted harshly, trying to get his legs to cooperate and _move._ But as he turned, he got another glimpse of the past...

-flash-

A woman pleading, a dark laugh. Voldemort! He could hear several laughs too, his Father!

-flash-

His father? What part did Lucius play in the Potter's demise?

-flash-

A jet of green light, the harsh words, a scream, the sound of a baby's cry! Harry was alone! Voldemort laughed as he lifted his wand! NO!

-flash-

"NO!"

-flash-

A pair of eyes, green as the spell that killed his parents, a baby wailed into the night as Dark Lord stood to kill, a flash, an explosion...

-flash-

Draco Malfoy found himself on his knees, his eyes misty with unshed tears. He never realized what magic thia place held, what wretched memories. He knew, without a doubt, that at least for now, he would leave this plot as it was. Let the magic dissipate some before he returned.

He didn't want to feel at all sorry for the Prat.

Turning, he all but fled from the site, feeling the ghosts of the past lying to rest once more. He got in the carriage and looked at his sleeping sons, and decided that he would never be his Father.

Lucius was a horrible man, and Draco would not become him.

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There we go. Have a nice day. Until next time...Ja ne!

Review?


	5. Remus

Sorry for the delay! I had a writer's boulder on my shoulder (hey that rhymes...). Any who, thanks for holding out, I hope this is up to par... If not... oh well.

Loves!

Remus:

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It was a blow I hadn't seen coming. After Sirius' death, I knew... I _knew_ that Harry was hurting, but I was always out, away. I never owled him... I should have owled him... I was so hurt though. I can see it now, like they say, hindsight is 20/20. I _blamed_ Harry for Siri's death. I knew, logically, that the poor boy was only a pawn in a bigger plan, but dammit! He should have known better! He should have known, and been able to tell someone what was going on!

But this time...

This time he couldn't. He was alone... And I just ignored him too. There was nothing that I could have done at the end, but still...

Could one letter, one word of encouragement have helped to circumvent this tragedy?

I still don't know how everything turned out like it did... How did this happen?

How could everyone turn their back on a defenseless boy, yet still depend on him to save the day?

How could _I_ do that?

I did it.

I put myself first, and Harry was a figure in my mind not worth thinking about. It wasn't worth the pain of losing my friend, again. Every time I think about that day, I wonder if I could have stopped him... If I had only been in the house... Had been at the Department of Mysteries, but still...

And Now, could I have helped to prevent this horrifying tragedy?

James is probably ready to kill me. I didn't protect his son. I never did. Not when Sirius was locked away, not when Sirius died. I never thought that I would be so responsible for my best friend's child. My best friend's murderer.

No, Harry didn't murder Sirius!

But Harry did kill himself. Oh god... If Sirius' death was so terrible for me... What would Harry have thought? To lose your only parental figure, to lose in an instant the one chance to escape your pitiful life...

Oh Harry...

The tears haven't stopped falling since I got in this blasted carriage to visit Hogwarts, to see Dumbledore, and to talk to him about the future. I laughed at that thought once, laughed at it so much actually.

When I was five, I had no future, I was an outcast, a werewolf and was so unloved. So much like Harry, how could I have not helped him? When I was twelve I met these great people, but still had no real future, because I was still a werewolf, and would forever be a werewolf. I had no right thinking about a job I would never have, the mate I could never have, the pups I would never have... Harry should have been enough, I should have been able to watch him grow strong, watched him take after his father, watched him play and run and oh Harry... I'm so sorry.

I had my chance, and I was to pig-headed to let go of my wounded heart, my selfish pride, to help you, to be the person you needed. I'm just so... I'm not sorry anymore, I just can't be. I'm all out of "sorry" right now. It wouldn't make a difference anyways, you wouldn't know.

You're dead.

Like all the others.

Leaving me here to deal with my life that never should have been, and with the things I never should have dealt with.

God I miss you, James, Sirius, Lily, Harry. I miss the smiles, the laughter, the tears.

Sorrow, pain, pleasure.

Singing in the rain, howling at the moon.

Things I never thought I'd get to do, and now, I'll never do them again.

Maybe this is my chance to move on, to get over my childhood stigma and get out and live.

Yes, that's what this is. This is the chance for me to step into the sunlight, to live and be free. To find that person to love, to have that family, to walk in the street without fear of persecution.

That's what I want, and thanks to Harry, I may be able to have that.

I never thought about it that way...

Thank you Harry...

...Thank you.

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Short, I know, but meh, what else can you do? I think I may do Hagrid, then a Slytherin... Slytherins are more fun. I love to write "love to hate you" scenes. They're so wonderful...


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